What Do You Want To Be?
by Socrates7727
Summary: After the war, Draco could have been anything. A healer, an outcast, a criminal, anything. But he's got his sights set on something-even if the only way he knows to go about getting it is through semi-legal channels. Hermione is suspicious... Written for the IWSC summer camp!


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Written for the IWSC summer camp!

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Story Title: What Do You Want To Be?

Activity/Round: Singing- It's never too late to be what you might have been.

Prompt: Write about trying to become what your heart desires, be it a singer, dancer, actor etc. (100 points)

Word Count: 1039

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At twenty five years old, Draco was more certain of the person he wanted to be than ever before. He'd lived the first seventeen years of his life torn between morals loyalties like some kind of tug-o-war rope and he'd been drowning in other people's ideas of who he should be. Now, though, he was sure.

It had taken four years in Azkaban for his perspective to shift. Inside those walls, there was no Lucius and no Dark Lord, but there was also no Gryffindors or professors. He was completely and utterly alone for the first time in his life and, though it'd been excruciating, he'd learned a lot. For instance, he'd learned exactly what it felt like to be drained of all happiness and life. He'd learned that he could survive, even when he didn't feel like he could, and he'd learned more than anything that he could trust himself.

Four years had given him the time for self reflection, and the time to hit rock bottom. When he stepped outside those walls, having finished his sentence, he felt like some kind of reformed addict on the road to a better life. In that moment, he'd decided what he wanted to be.

Much of his family's publicly declared fortune had been taken in the form of reparations, but there were thousands of other hidden treasures and income streams that only Draco knew about. Part of him had felt guilty hiding that information, but now he was glad. He'd known from a young age that he would never be required financially to work, and that was still true. That wasn't going to stop him, though.

The first day following his release, Draco had set to work. A different, secret kind of work that only he would ever know about. By day two, Draco was more glad than ever that he'd been his father's shadow for most of his childhood—for better, or for worse—and had learned to live in bureaucracy.

Draco Malfoy was no longer a scared little Hogwarts student or a pitiful servant of the Dark Lord. It had taken time, at first, to regain the respect he'd lost while imprisoned, but he'd been persistent and now he was reaping the rewards. He took his father's friends in high places and he made them his own. His mother's former tea guests became his own wine tasting networking opportunity. Slowly, he weaseled his way back into the life of power he'd left behind.

Two months in, the Ministry began to take notice. Draco put great effort into keeping his actions anonymous, but he supposed it was only time before the new Minister began to question the strange influx of money. Mysterious donations often meant bribes, or preparation for a seizing of power. They were rightfully nervous.

Surprisingly enough, though, it wasn't Aurors who came knocking on his door demanding answers. Instead, he opened the ancient iron gates to welcome in Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy." She looked good, he had to admit. The years had been kind and, though he'd heard about her marriage and her children with the Weasel, she didn't look any worse off for it. Actually, she looked rather… happy.

"Granger." She didn't correct him. He invited her in, as was only polite, but couldn't miss the way she still hesitated in the main foyer, eyeing the chandelier carefully. His stomach lurched, but he just ushered her into the sitting room.

"It's you, isn't it?" Draco feigned ignorance, instead focusing on adding the correct amount of cream into his coffee. He offered her refreshments as well as food—ever the host—but she refused both and instead just stared at him. Evidently, she was not easily distracted.

"It's you who's pulling strings at the Ministry, Malfoy, and don't try to tell me it isn't. You're the only person in the country with that kind of money anymore and you're certainly the only one who knows what to do with it." Draco merely sipped his coffee and gestured at the Manor's state of humble disrepair.

"As you can see, the Malfoy fortune isn't what it used to be." But that was an act—a front—and he could tell instantly that she'd seen through it.

"Relax, they haven't singled you out yet. I'm here because I know you, and I know that you're planning something. You've been turning votes and rubbing elbows with political leaders for the last two months, but why? What are you trying to get out of this?" Draco shook his head. He knew she wouldn't believe him or understand, even if he tried to tell her the truth. That was why he'd started lying in the first place.

"I'm not doing anything, Granger, and I'm not trying to get anything." She glared.

"Yeah, yeah, plausible deniability and all that. You won't admit to it and I understand that you aren't that stupid but just tell me what your goal is, Malfoy. What do you want? Maybe I can help you get it without breaking any laws." At that, Draco couldn't contain a small snort. It wasn't professional or very stoic of him, but he couldn't help it and Granger looked so flabbergasted by it that he almost laughed out loud.

"It's not something you can help me get, Granger, but I appreciate the sentiment. This is something I have to do on my own, for myself." Her glare deepened, but he didn't feel particularly threatened anymore. Nothing he'd done had been explicitly illegal. Sure, parts of it were shady or frowned upon, but he hadn't broken a single law and he was certain of it. She had nothing but her own irritation to take back to the Ministry.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she tried again. It wasn't something he could easily explain, and he wasn't going to try because they were far from friends, but he took a deep breath anyway. She wouldn't leave without some kind of answer.

"What is it that you're trying to get? Do you want to be rich again? Or get some kind of favor with the Ministry? Do you want to be powerful like your father was before the war, or—"

"I want to be good, Hermione. I just want to be good."

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Thanks so much for reading!


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